Bound To The Dying Alpha Prince

Ravyn's POV

"Please! Please stop! I swear I won't rest anymore. I-I'll keep working. Just tell me what you want, just stop!"

My voice broke with desperation, echoing in the cold stone room. But the blows only got harder.

"Ungrateful little wretch! We feed you, clothe you, let you stay under our roof and this is how you repay us. By slacking off?"

Her voice struck deeper than her fists.

"And wipe that look off your face. If you glare at me again, I'll claw your eyes out myself."

Kimberly-my so-called foster mother snarled the words like venom. I have no memory of my real parents. The Ashridge family claimed they found me in the woods, bleeding and half-eaten by a lion. They 'rescued' me. But they didn't save me.

They enslaved me.

The food they gave me? Scraps, picked clean by others. The clothes? Threadbare rags cast off by the maids. The home? A mildew-infested shack tucked away at the edge of the estate. It barely kept the cold out. I had been their maid, their servant, their scapegoat. Since I was old enough to walk, I've toiled for their approval. Cooking, cleaning, tending livestock. But to them, I was less than the servants. Less than human.

If I'd known what their version of 'mercy' looked like, I would have chosen death that day in the forest.

I turned eighteen today. At midnight, I would finally gain my wolf. That sacred moment I had waited for my entire life. Just one day, just one I wanted to rest. But when I hesitated at another pile of chores, Kimberly snapped.

Her slap whipped across my face, pain blooming instantly. My vision swam. The kicks came fast, sharp and punishing. Each strike lit my nerves aflame. I crumpled, weak and unable to shield myself. When they were done, they left me crumpled in the barn, like discarded refuse.

Tears carved hot trails down my cheeks. My body trembled.

"Moon Goddess," I whispered into the dark. "Please... if you're real, grant me a strong wolf. Let me break free. Let this be the end of my cage."

Midnight crept in quietly. The moonlight filtered through the wooden cracks in the barn walls, bathing the floor in silver.

And then I felt it.

A surge. Fierce and wild. It roared through my veins like a storm waking from centuries of slumber. My bones ached and cracked. Fire danced beneath my skin. I screamed, not from fear, but from raw power bursting to life.

Then everything changed.

I shifted. My form expanded, reshaped. Fur silver as moonlight covered me. In the reflection of a puddle, I caught sight of her, my wolf. Powerful. Elegant. Breathtaking.

But my body, battered and broken, could not hold the form. Darkness dragged me under.

When I woke up, I was back inside the Ashridge home. Dazed. Weak. My body is still aching.

"Put this on," Kimberly snapped, tossing a white dress at me. Her eyes gleamed with something I couldn't place, malice, maybe. Satisfaction.

I caught the dress, confusion weighing down my limbs.

Then came the voice I hated most-Seraphina.

"Aww, poor Ravyn. That's the nicest thing you'll ever wear. Don't worry. You'll only need it for your wedding today."

Wedding?

My stomach dropped.

"To whom?" My voice trembled.

Seraphina grinned like a cat playing with a wounded mouse. "To Darius. The dying Alpha. You should be thankful. "If it weren't for this, you'd never have gotten within sniffing distance of Alpha blood."

Darius? The one with the reputation for cruelty? The Alpha whose wives kept dying under mysterious circumstances? Rumors whispered he was cursed. Or worse, he was the curse.

They were selling me to a man on his deathbed.

"No. No, I won't do it," I gasped.

Kimberly's face twisted. "You think you have a choice? We've fed you for eighteen years. It's time to repay your debt."

"You didn't raise me! You used me like a slave! You never cared whether I lived or died!"

Her hand flew again. This time, it knocked me off my feet. My cheek burned, but something inside me... cracked.

I wouldn't let them use me anymore. I wouldn't be their pawn.

They locked me in my room. Starved me. Warned the servants to stay away. But I overheard their whispers.

The truth.

Seraphina was supposed to marry Darius. That was the agreement with the royal family. But Kimberly chose me instead, the orphan no one would miss.

That was all I needed to hear.

When they dragged me out to dress me for the ceremony, I didn't resist. I waited.

I watched.

And when the gate opened, I ran.

On my way out, I slammed into someone.

I stumbled back. And that's when I smelled it.

That scent, earthy, wild, powerful. It crashed over me like thunder and wrapped around my senses. My breath caught.

Mate.

My wolf surged within me. I looked up slowly.

Lucien.

My foster sister's boyfriend.

Shock froze me. My body trembled as the others caught up, their eyes bouncing between us.

"Lucien?" Seraphina's voice dripped with disbelief. No. She can't be, she's a filthy Omega. You can't be serious."

Shame flushed through me. I dropped my gaze.

Then his hand gently tilted my chin up. His eyes held mine. Something sparked.

Hope.

Was it possible? Could he accept me?

Lucien was next in line to lead the entire pack. If he claimed me, he could destroy everything the Ashridges had built.

For years, I'd loved him in silence. But I was invisible to him.

Until now.

"Mate," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled.

For a moment, my heart soared.

Then his lips parted and shattered me.

"Honestly... you're a disappointment."

My heart stopped.

"You're nothing like the mate I imagined. It's almost funny, really."

I swallowed, unable to breathe. "What... what did you say?"

He didn't flinch.

"I reject you, Omega. I refuse to accept you as my mate."

And just like that, the bond snapped and I broke.

Ravyn's POV

My mate had just rejected me.

It felt like my heart had been cleaved open. Not broken, shattered. As if every rib in my chest had splintered, the fragments carving grief into my soul.

My wolf howled, a raw and guttural sound inside me. She had only just awakened, barely connected to me, and now she was crumbling. The pain of rejection was more than either of us could endure.

I fell to my knees. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Hope hurt.

I wanted to run, to disappear into the forest, to vanish from this pack, this torment, this life. But my wolf wouldn't rise. I called to her. Begged her. But the link was weak, fading. I felt nothing but an echo, as if she were trapped far away.

Powerless.

Broken.

That's what I had become.

So when Kimberly came into the room and said, almost gleefully, that I would still be marrying Darius Blackthorn in Seraphina's place, I didn't argue. I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

Because anything was better than staying in the Ashridge home.

Darius Blackthorn. The dying Alpha. No ceremony. No guests. No celebration. Just a transaction.

They dressed me like a doll. Pale skin powdered. Eyes painted. Lips stained. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl in the white gown.

That was when Seraphina walked in, her heels clicking arrogantly on the marble floor.

"Well, well," she purred. "You should be thanking me. Without me stepping aside, a stray like you would never touch a bloodline like Blackthorn."

She twirled a lock of her golden hair around one finger. "Oh, and Lucien proposed to me last night. We're having the grandest wedding our pack has ever seen."

My chest ached. Lucien. My mate. The one who had rejected me without flinching.

He was marrying her.

"He said I'm his everything. That he's never loved anyone like he loves me," she added, watching me closely. "Isn't that sweet?"

My throat tightened. "Please leave."

Seraphina scoffed. "This is my house. My room. You don't belong here, you never did. Not even your real parents wanted you. You're nothing but a mistake."

I wanted to scream. To slap her. But what would it change?

I still had no wolf. No protection. No power.

So I did what I'd always done. I stayed silent.

A servant entered. "Lady Ravyn, the carriage has arrived."

Seraphina's eyes lit up. "That must be Lucien's surprise! He sent me a royal escort?"

She stepped forward, but the crowd of servants parted as a woman emerged. Tall, sharp-featured, draped in understated elegance. She wore no crown, but power clung to her like armor.

Without a word, she shoved Seraphina aside.

"What the hell, do you know who I am?" Seraphina shrieked.

Kimberly rushed in, horror-stricken. "Seraphina! That's Duchess Elara Blackthorn. Apologize. Now."

Seraphina paled instantly. "I-I'm sorry, Duchess Elara-"

The duchess didn't blink. "Your apology belongs to Ravyn. She's the one you insulted."

Seraphina faltered. "I'm... sorry, Ravyn."

Elara gave a cold smile. "If apologies could heal wounds, we wouldn't need discipline." She turned to the guards. "Escort the brat outside. Teach her what respect means."

Kimberly dropped to her knees. "Please! Have mercy. She's still young. She didn't mean it!"

Her cries echoed unanswered.

I stood motionless as Seraphina's screams echoed from the courtyard:

"Lucien! Help me!"

"No! Stop! Please, stop!"

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear!"

And for the first time in my life, I felt no pity.

When the punishment ended, Kimberly returned, trying to pretend nothing had happened. She handed me a wrapped gift box, her smile strained.

"My precious girl... I know things have been difficult. Let's move forward. I got this just for you."

I stared at her, barely hearing the words. The insignia on the guards' lapels glinted in the light.

Blackthorn.

This wasn't just any noble family. Darius was royalty. And now I was his wife.

My status had changed. They all knew it.

But so had the stakes. Rumors said Darius had little time left.

Until I found a way to escape, he needed to live.

We arrived at the Blackthorn estate, a palace hidden in a veil of shadow and silence. Every corner felt guarded. Sacred. Heavy.

Duchess Elara turned to me, voice hard as stone. "Listen closely. Darius is my nephew. If he falls ill, if he's hurt, if he so much as sneezes and I suspect you're the reason, I will personally rip you apart."

"I understand," I said quietly. "I'll take care of him."

She nodded once and vanished into the halls.

A servant handed me a sheet of instructions, her voice brisk. "You are now responsible for Master Darius's care. These tasks are your duty. Don't interfere with the household unless absolutely necessary."

I looked down at the paper. Daily duties. Medicines. Bandages. Food preparation. Personal hygiene.

"Tonight, you'll begin with bathing him and changing his dressings," she said. "Don't fail."

The air around her crackled with contempt.

Who dared speak of an Alpha like that? My curiosity burned, but I held my tongue.

She pointed toward a corridor. "He'll be expecting you."

I walked through the grand hallway. Gold and crimson tapestries. Oil paintings of long-dead Alphas. The scent of old roses and parchment.

The room she led me to was massive, gilded, pristine, and utterly still.

But empty.

No Darius.

I glanced at the instruction sheet. The first task remained: Bathe him. Change his dressings.

Hours passed. No one came.

Finally, exhausted, I bathed alone, changed into the soft nightclothes provided, and crawled into the massive bed.

The sheets cradled me like clouds. My eyes shut before I could think.

Then...

The dream.

I was back in the moldy shed behind the Ashridge house. A snake curled around my ankle, cold and slick. Its tongue flicked, sliding higher. It lifted the hem of my nightgown...

My eyes flew open.

It wasn't a dream.

Someone was touching me.

I shot upright with a cry.

And there he stood.

A man.

Tall. Dressed in black. Silver eyes like blades. Cold. Observing. Burning.

And behind those eyes was something feral.

Something hungry.

"Get out of my sight!"

The voice that tore through the stillness of the room was like a blade across soft skin. It was sharp, cold, and impossible to ignore.

Darius sat in the center of the dimly lit chamber, framed by shadows and silence. His brows were drawn into a stormy glare, and in one hand, he still held the silver-handled cane he had used to strike me only moments before. The steel glinted in the low light like it had a soul of its own, cold and unforgiving.

So this was my wedding night.

Married for just a few short hours, and already I was being cast out like a piece of rotting fruit. There was no warmth in his gaze, no gentleness in his voice, only hostility, raw and brimming with fury.

But I didn't run. I couldn't.

Darius Blackthorn was the only wall standing between me and the abyss I had barely escaped. If I failed here, if he rejected me, I'd be dragged back to Ashridge's estate. Back to the chains. Back to the bruises. Back to the silence that followed screams. I wouldn't survive that a second time.

I steadied myself, hiding the tremble in my hands behind the soft folds of my dress.

"Darius," I said softly, my voice more breath than sound. "My name is Ravyn. I'm... I'm your wife."

He let out a bitter laugh, though it held no humor. "Wife? Is that what they're calling it now?" His voice dripped with contempt. "You're not my wife. You're a burden they've shackled to my name."

He looked anything but the dying man I'd been told about. His body might be confined to a wheelchair, but there was no weakness in the way he held himself. His voice carried the weight of someone who had once commanded rooms and armies. If death was close, it had not yet reached his spirit.

A flicker of relief sparked in me despite his hostility. At least he wasn't dying. Not yet. That gave me time.

I reminded myself of the instructions I'd been handed upon arrival: a list, cold and clinical. Step one: assist Darius with his evening bath.

I cleared my throat and offered a small bow, keeping my tone respectful but firm. "Mr. Blackthorn, I was told that now would be a good time for your bath. I'll begin preparing the water and the oils."

He didn't speak. Just glared.

I turned and made my way into the adjoining bathroom. Only then did I allow myself to breathe. The walls muffled the sound of my heartbeat, but not the fear pounding behind my ribs.

I lit the oil lamps, watching the warm glow spread across the marble floor. With careful hands, I filled the tub, mixing in the herbs and oils as instructed. Lavender and rosemary. Their scent curled through the air like whispers of a life I didn't know how to live.

As I worked, a painful thought settled into my chest, I have never touched a man before, not even held one's hand. And now, I was expected to bathe one?

A heat crawled up my neck. I pushed it down.

The faint sound of wheels on stone reached my ears. He was coming.

I turned, forcing a calm expression onto my face. "The bath is ready, sir. You may come in now."

He stared at me, his eyes unreadable. There was no movement in his legs, which rested uselessly on the footrests of his chair.

I stepped forward slowly and placed my hands gently on the handles of the wheelchair, easing him toward the bath. Still, he didn't help. His body was heavy, uncooperative.

I hesitated. My fingers twisted in my skirt. "Would you... like help removing your clothes?"

The silence that followed was unbearable. I didn't dare meet his gaze.

"I mean," I added, my voice faltering, "if you're unable to... I can assist."

The look he gave me was withering. But then, a slow, cruel smile tugged at his lips. "So, you're going to undress me, little dove?"

The humiliation hit me like a slap. I bit the inside of my cheek, my pride screaming while my mouth stayed silent.

"...Yes," I whispered. "I'll help."

Kneeling before him, I reached for the buttons of his coat. My fingers shook as I undid them one by one, peeling away the layers of cloth that separated us. Each piece I removed made the air between us feel heavier, more intimate and unbearable.

When I reached his belt, I faltered. My hands hovered, uncertain.

"I'll remove your trousers now," I said softly, more to warn myself than him. The buckle fought me, stiff and unyielding. I struggled, my face burning with every second that passed.

Then he laughed. A low, cruel chuckle. My fingers froze.

He leaned forward just enough to grab my wrist. His grip was firm, his skin icy against mine. "Let me show you, if you're going to be this pathetic about it."

He guided my hand, showing me the motion. The buckle clicked loose beneath our joined hands.

I tried not to think. Tried not to feel. I moved closer, my knees pressing against the cool stone. I needed to shift him to remove the rest of his clothing.

"Mr. Blackthorn," I said, voice trembling but steady enough, "I need you to lean on me. Just for a moment."

But instead of complying, he leaned forward sharply, his face suddenly close to mine.

Too close.

I froze. His breath ghosted across my cheek. I tried to pull back, but his hand gripped my arm, anchoring me there.

"This close?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark as midnight storms. Then they dropped to my lips.

My heart thundered. I couldn't move. A foreign heat bloomed inside me, unwanted and confusing.

And just when I thought he might kiss me...

He shoved me backward.

I hit the floor hard, pain shooting through my tailbone. I gasped, struggling to breathe as I stared up at him in shock.

His voice sliced through the air. "Tell me the truth. Why are you here? Why did you marry me? What is it you want from Darius Blackthorn? What is your Secret Agenda?